


Eyes Open

by R_S_B



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Impact Play, Power Play, Smut, Strap-On, and to Afsaneh/Philippa (prime), and to Katrina/Philippa (prime), limited descriptions of violence, references to Katrina/Gabriel (prime), to Katrina/Gabriel (mirror)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 10:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17242637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/pseuds/R_S_B
Summary: In which Philippa Georgiou is Katrina Cornwell’s ex-wife and Katrina struggles to figure out how to deal with the appearance of yet another ex from the Mirror Universe. But this time, she's going into it with her eyes open.





	Eyes Open

Katrina was so focused on other things, she almost didn't notice the communicator beeping in her pocket. Pausing in the corridor, she flipped it open.

“This is Admiral Cornwell.”

“Admiral, our, um… guest, is requesting your presence.”

Katrina paused for a moment, taking a practiced breath before responding, lest she let her frustration show. Their “guest,” the Emperor of the Terran Empire, was currently locked away in guest quarters, but her status was murky at best and frankly a gigantic complication that Katrina did not have the time to deal with. But the happier they kept their unexpected visitor, the easier and more hassle-free everything would be. And she couldn't delegate handling the Emperor to just anyone. Her presence was _highly_ classified. The less people who knew, the better.

“I'll be right there,” she replied, then shut the communicator and spun on her heel.

When she arrived, it took a minute to adjust to the low lighting. _She_ was there, sitting, back straight, still wearing her gleaming golden armor, on the sofa under the window. It was so bizarre to see her again, to see _Philippa_ , that Katrina was amazed her brain was even able to process it. But here they were, and so Katrina did what she had to. But even she had to admit this day had been more of a rollercoaster than usual, even for the war.

Her hopes of seeing Gabriel again aboard the unexpectedly returned _Discovery_ had given way to a simmering anger that was boiling over at inconvenient moments. Ever since Lieutenant Burnham had explained Lorca’s origins, and his very timely demise, she’d been daydreaming about thrusting a sword through his treacherous chest herself.

Then everything had turned upside down one last time, seeing _her_ again.

Philippa Georgiou.

“What do you want?”

It came out rougher than intended, but Philippa just smiled. “I just wanted to talk.”

“To talk?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes. The accommodations here are a bit lacking. What am I supposed to do, stuck away in this cage? You haven't given me anything to do.” Katrina rolled her eyes, hand set on her hip, but Philippa was undeterred. “You knew my counterpart in this world,” she said, switching tactics.

“Yes.” Katrina didn't elaborate.

“How did you know her?”

Katrina hesitated, but she couldn’t come up with a real reason not to just be honest. “She was my ex-wife.”

A smile curled across Philippa's face. “ _Ex-_ wife. Interesting. What happened, Katrina?” The way the Emperor said her name made her shiver.

“I am _not_ discussing my marriage with you.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine. I knew you in my universe as well, you know.”

Katrina was intrigued despite herself, but she tried not to let it show. “Oh?”

“You were my most valued interrogator.”

Katrina sneered. “You mean torturer.”

“Yes.”

“Don't think you know me. I'm no torturer.”

“And yet you continue to hold me here,” Philippa replied slowly, waving a hand at the room around them.

She knew the Emperor was deliberately trying to provoke her, but it didn’t stop her irritation. “This is hardly torture.” Philippa just stared back at her, and Katrina gave in to the pressure to justify holding her. “There are security concerns. We are in a war zone. We can't just drop you off on the nearest planet,” she finished, waving her arm in the direction of hypothetical nearby planets.

“So there are limits to your so-called Starfleet values.”

“Yes! Sometimes. Context matters. The survival of the Federation is at stake right now. And I'll do what I have to to protect it.”

* * *

The next two times Katrina saw her, she arrived at Philippa’s quarters of her own volition. The first one was in the middle of the night, but Katrina wasn't concerned about waking the other woman. “Don’t talk to my officers,” Katrina snapped at Philippa, who had finally removed her golden armor to lounge in the black leather jumpsuit she’d worn underneath.

Philippa just smiled. “Michael came to me,” she replied innocently.

“I don’t care. It’s not happening again.”

Philippa sat up, tilting her head at Katrina. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. “Are you sure, Admiral? I can be very useful.”

“We’re taking care of things just fine without you.”

“Are you sure?”

Katrina glared hard at Philippa, but the other woman was unfazed. “Don’t speak to my officers again,” she repeated.  

Philippa shrugged and looked away dismissively. “Fine.”

Katrina spun on her heel and left.

The next time started off so similarly it was almost like _deja vu_ , Katrina storming through the doorway, heavy footfalls thudding on the floor. This time Philippa jumped, just the tiniest bit, but she held her head high. Katrina was too angry to allow herself any satisfaction.  

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” she bit out angrily. “I told you not to--”

“He’s _not_ one of your officers.”

Katrina fumed, hating that she was right. “What the hell did you say to Ambassador Sarek?”

Philippa shrugged. “I told him the truth. If you want to save your precious Federation, you have to strike now.”

Visions of L’Rell in the brig flashed through her mind.

_How does it end?_

_It doesn’t._

_… conquer us or we will never relent._

The terrifying thing was that she believed the Klingon. She finally looked up, finding Philippa’s eyes, flashing in the shadows. “You know I’m right,” Philippa said.

Katrina hated it. She hated it with every molecule of her being. And she hated it most of all because Philippa _was_ right.

Philippa didn’t need a response to know the answer. “Maybe there isn’t as much separating us as you wish to believe. Maybe I’m not so different from _her_. And maybe you aren’t so different either.”

“You are nothing like her.” But as the words left her mouth, Katrina couldn’t tell if she really believed them.

Philippa stood up and walked towards her, gaze locked on Katrina’s. She forced herself not to look away.  She couldn’t escape the feeling that she was being hunted. Philippa stopped right in front of her - _so close_ \- and Katrina had to look down to meet her eyes.

“Are you _sure_?”  

* * *

By the time Philippa summoned her again, Katrina felt like a dog on a leash. The Emperor couldn’t even leave her quarters, and yet, somehow, she seemed to be the one controlling everything that was unfolding on the _Discovery_ , moving chess pieces from behind a curtain. She’d already manipulated Lieutenant Burnham and Ambassador Sarek. It was only a matter of time before it was Katrina’s turn again.

Not that it mattered anymore. The pieces were already moving.

When the doors opened, the faint smell of incense hit Katrina’s nose, and she stepped inside to find Philippa reclining barefoot in a black silk robe. The edge of something lacy peaked out from underneath. The dim light threw shadows, leaving her eyes in darkness even as they highlighted her collarbones. She smiled at Katrina. It seemed like she should have looked safe, or at least nonthreatening. She was barely clothed, there was no way to hide a weapon under that robe, but somehow she still looked ready and able to attack at the slightest provocation.

Katrina rolled her eyes at the changes in Philippa’s dress and the atmosphere in her quarters. “Look,” she began, “just to make things clear, whatever this is… you don’t need to… to try to seduce me to get me to go along with the plan. I already agreed. Ambassador Sarek is talking to Command now.”

“I know,” Philippa replied haughtily. “I’m not trying to _manipulate_ you.” Katrina looked at her skeptically and Philippa smiled wider. “I just want to fuck you.”

All the air left Katrina’s lungs and her stomach twisted. She hated that a part of her was affected by it. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Why wouldn’t you trust me?”

Katrina laughed coldly. “I haven’t had very good experiences with people from your universe.”

Philippa stood up suddenly and began to walk towards her, head tilting curiously. “What did my Gabriel do to you?”

Katrina sneered. “It doesn’t matter.”

The Emperor stopped in front of her and smiled and Katrina was torn between finding it unsettling and arousing. “I killed him, you know.”

“That’s what I heard,” Katrina said carefully. The fantasies about plunging the sword through his chest had not passed, they’d only become more persistent, and more detailed, as time passed.  

“Do you disapprove of my actions, Katrina?” Philippa was watching her closely, a half-smile on her face. Katrina tried to push away the violent thought, but her blood was pounding in her ears. Philippa was still watching her. Her mouth twitched. “You wish you’d killed him.”

Katrina was silent for a moment. In her mind, she saw herself ripping the sword from his chest, sending a spray of blood across the floor. She saw him fall to his knees as his lungs filled with blood, his choking gasps like music to her ears. “Yes.”

Philippa moved closer, reaching up to caress Katrina’s face, one finger tracing along the edge of her jaw. “It was so _satisfying_ thrusting that sword through his back,” she drawled. “Hearing him choke on his own blood as he died at my feet.” Katrina’s breath was speeding up. Philippa was _so_ close. “What did he _do_ to you, Katrina?” she whispered.

Katrina took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. “He lied to me. And when I threatened to get in the way of his plans, he tried to have me killed. _He failed_.”

“He underestimated you.”

“Yes.”

Philippa looked Katrina up and down approvingly. “I would never underestimate you.” She licked her lips hungrily, then pulled back, dropping her hand and turning away. She walked back to the sofa, hips swaying slightly.

“Have I ever lied to you?” Philippa asked, and Katrina’s eyes snapped up from her ass to her face. A flush rose in her cheeks, and Philippa smiled.

“Not that I'm aware of,” Katrina admitted.

“So you have no reason not to trust me now.” She spread her legs and Katrina’s throat went dry. “Come.” Katrina began to walk towards her, one slow step at a time, and she removed her jacket and tossed her communicator onto the table. When she stood in front of Philippa, she was told to kneel, and she knelt between Philippa’s legs. “Now,” Philippa commanded, “use that talented tongue of yours to make me come.”

Katrina’s eyes were transfixed on the damp spot on the lacy panties Philippa was wearing. A thousand reasons why this was a uniquely and tremendously terrible idea flew through her mind. But another part of her didn’t particularly care anymore.

At least this time she knew what she was getting into.

She leaned in, hooking a finger around Philippa’s lace panties and pulling them to the side. Her tongue swiped gently between her lips and Philippa sighed contentedly. The taste of her filled Katrina’s senses, and she was overwhelmed with the memory of _Philippa_. Philippa, who once was hers. Her tongue circled about Philippa’s clit, and then a hand clenched roughly in her hair, holding her in place, and the impression was gone as quickly as it had come. _Not my Philippa._ Then, _Better this way._

For a moment she imagined what Philippa’s wife would think to see her now, face buried in the Emperor’s pussy. Afsaneh would be _horrified_. Katrina just leaned in closer, mouth surrounding Philippa’s hot, wet cunt, devouring her sweet flesh. Philippa’s breath hitched, and Katrina felt a rush of power flow through her.

She steadied herself on the floor with one hand and placed the other on Philippa’s leg. Her fingers ran over an unexpected ridge of flesh on the inside of Philippa’s otherwise perfectly smooth thigh, and Katrina pulled back just enough to see a long, thin scar. Katrina looked up at Philippa, at the _Emperor_ , and wondered who had been close enough to deliver such a blow. She didn’t ask her about it and Philippa didn’t say anything - she didn’t need to. Philippa was still here, and that’s all she needed to know to know that whoever it was had met the same end that Lorca had. She traced the scar with her tongue, making Philippa shudder. Katrina looked back up at her, holding her gaze as she kissed the rest of the way up Philippa’s thigh.

When Katrina finally returned to the sweet junction between her legs, Philippa was wound up tight, chest rising and falling with deep breaths, and she moaned loudly, tremulously, as Katrina kissed her clit. Katrina dug her fingers into Philippa’s thighs and began to suck on her again, gently at first, but with quickly increasing pressure. Philippa trembled and moaned and Katrina continued hungrily. When Philippa was getting close, Katrina moved her tongue down to plunge into her pussy, and Philippa threw her head back and groaned in a mixture of pleasure and frustration. Her hand tugged on Katrina’s hair and she groaned and returned to Philippa’s clit. Her tongue circled it gently and Philippa made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. She flicked her tongue teasingly over it again and again and that was _definitely_ a whimper she heard.

When she began to suck on her again, Philippa’s hips rocked involuntarily and she moaned and it was _such_ a delicious sound. Then she jerked again and she was coming, tight groan caught between clenched teeth.

When Katrina was finished, her jaw was sore and so was her scalp and Philippa was sprawled on the couch, face flushed. Katrina sat back on her heels, watching the Emperor collect herself. It didn’t take long.

Philippa gestured towards the bed. “Get undressed and lie down.”

For a moment, Katrina considered refusing, then she stood up and paced slowly towards the bed, feeling Philippa’s eyes on her back the whole way. At the side of the bed, she bent forward, stripping off her uniform pants, then grasping her black tank top and pulling it over her head. Both were tossed unceremoniously to the floor. The cool air on Katrina’s skin made her hair stand on end, and she was suddenly very aware of just how naked she was. She hesitated for a moment, uncertain about removing anything else, but Philippa tut-tutted her from the couch. “No, those too.”

Katrina straightened, shook out her hair, and reached behind her to unhook her bra. It soon joined the growing pile of clothes and she was hooking her thumbs under the edge of her underwear when she felt an unexpected hand at her back.  A single finger ran along her spine, surprisingly gentle, tracing a long, thin scar. She shivered, Philippa’s touch drawing a gasp from her.

“How did you get this?” The finger reached the top of the scar, and slid back down.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Katrina spat, looking at Philippa over her shoulder. “ _Your_ Gabriel. He wanted to get rid of me, made sure I was captured by Klingons. I was a captive on their ship for months. During my… _first_ escape attempt, I suffered severe spinal trauma. It went untreated for some time.”

“Mmm, maybe not everyone in this universe is as soft as I thought,” Philippa murmured, hand sliding to caress Katrina's hip. “He was wrong to underestimate you.” She actually sounded kind of impressed. Katrina didn’t know how to respond and Philippa continued. “You didn't get rid of the scar?”

“No. It wasn’t a good use of our resources. We have a war to fight.”

“You should keep it. It shows how strong you are.”

Katrina barked a laugh. “Are you trying to flatter me?”

Philippa didn't answer, instead turning Katrina around to face her and pulling her down for a kiss. It was surprisingly gentle at first, a soft press of lips, and Katrina melted into it, hands sliding around Philippa’s slim form and twisting in silky fabric. Then Katrina suddenly found herself on her back, Philippa crawling up the bed over her, gazing down at her hungrily.

Katrina responded in kind, pulling Philippa down for a bruising kiss and reveling in the soft groan she drew from her. “You are wearing too much, _Your Highness_ ,” she teased, deliberately calling her by the wrong title. Philippa glared threateningly, but Katrina didn’t hesitate, ripping the silky black slip over her head.

When it was off, Philippa leaned back down over Katrina on all fours, hair falling down around her face, a dark halo framing her elfin features, an unreadable look in her eyes. She reached up, palm pressing down under Katrina’s clavicle, fingers tightening around her neck. Katrina’s eyes widened in surprise and she looked up at Philippa, who smiled down at her hungrily. The grip on her throat was firm, and Katrina arched up against it experimentally, but it didn’t budge - not tight enough to cut off her hair but well placed and strong enough to ensure she wasn’t moving.

Desire burned between her legs and she reflexively rubbed her thighs together. Philippa smiled and reached down with her other hand, fingers sliding between Katrina’s lips and rubbing gentle circles over Katrina’s clit. She groaned and jerked against Philippa’s hand.

Philippa continued, pressure increasing, and Katrina gasped and whimpered under her touch. The direct contact was almost too much, but she was just gentle enough so as not to be overwhelming. Philippa switched to rub her thumb over Katrina’s clit, two fingers moving to slide in and out of her with each stroke, and Katrina moaned and began to writhe, back arching as far as it could under Philippa’s grip.

Philippa continued to work her with her hand and Katrina began to squirm more, moaning faster, head thrown back. Then the pressure of Philippa’s fingers between her legs increased and she leaned in close.

“Come for me, Admiral,” she breathed.

Katrina let go of the last shred of control. She gave in to the pleasure fully, and the force of it slammed into her unexpectedly, a burning heat engulfing her then washing away. She rode out the orgasm on Philippa’s fingers as long as she could, finally pushing Philippa’s hand away when it became too much. Philippa stopped and let go of her neck.

As she tried to catch her breath, she lamented silently that she’d come so quickly, but thinking back, she realized she hadn’t been intimate with anyone since Gabe. The war hadn’t left opportunity for much more than rushed masturbation before bed or in the shower. It was no wonder she was a little pent up.

“Katrina,” the Emperor whispered. Katrina rolled onto her side and looked up at Philippa, who laid down next to her. Philippa pressed wet fingers against Katrina’s mouth and the scent of her pussy on Philippa’s fingers hit her suddenly. She gasped, mouth parting, and Philippa took the opportunity to push her fingertips into Katrina’s mouth.

She moaned, tongue flicking over Philippa’s fingers, tasting herself, and the heat in her belly began to coil and build again. Philippa pushed her fingers deeper, and Katrina licked them clean. Philippa leaned in close enough that they were sharing breath. “I’m going to fuck you now.” Then Philippa closed the distance between them, kissing Katrina hungrily.

Katrina kissed back, still gasping for breath. Then Philippa was suddenly gone, the bed shifting under Katrina. She collapsed back into the bed, arm bent over her eyes and breathing deeply. She wasn’t sure if she really expected Philippa to come back. None of it seemed quite real. She would surely wake up soon from what had clearly been a very detailed and explicit dream.

But she didn’t wake up and soon she heard Philippa returning.  The soft caress of Philippa’s feet on the floor came nearer, but Katrina didn’t move. Then she heard a squirt and a wet slap.

Finally uncovering her eyes, she watched Philippa kneel between her legs, naked except for the strap-on dick bobbing between her legs. Philippa stroked the cock up and down, spreading lube over it. The heat in her stomach coiled tighter.

Philippa pushed Katrina’s legs up, hands behind her knees, until they were flush against her chest, feet hanging in the air. Their eyes met and Philippa licked her lips, eyes devouring Katrina hungrily. She pushed her hips forward and pressed the cock into Katrina, making her cry out in surprise and pleasure. It was thick, and she pressed in slowly.

“Fuck,” Katrina muttered, “did you find the biggest one?”

Philippa chuckled. “Not even close. There was a surprising variety of options in your replicator database. This universe might not be as boring as I’d feared.” She pulled back then pushed in again. “Do you like it?”

Katrina groaned. “ _Yes_.”

Philippa grinned. “Good.” Then her fingers dug into Katrina’s thighs and she began to thrust.

Katrina whimpered as Philippa penetrated her again and again. “Fuck. _Yes_.”

Then Philippa grunted suddenly and let go of her legs. “Turn over,” she commanded.

Katrina’s limbs moved slowly, drowsy with pleasure, but she flipped over and got on her knees. She felt Philippa’s hand in her hair first, fingers twisting and gripping tightly. Then Philippa pressed the dildo back into her, and in that moment the pressure of it filling her made their union feel complete.

Philippa scraped her nails down Katrina’s spine. “I found something else,” she whispered.

Katrina tensed, not knowing what to expect, but she didn’t turn, lest it ruin the surprise. Philippa shifted behind her, but not enough to slip out. Then she was back in position and the flat blade of a paddle cracked hard against Katrina’s ass.

Katrina cried out with the impact, grimacing.

“You don’t like it?”

Katrina shook her head.

“Hmm. I had hoped you might be more fun,” the Emperor pouted.

Katrina grunted. “I prefer a hand.”

She could hear the smile in Philippa’s voice. “Noted.”

Philippa’s hand in her hair readjusted, and Katrina could feel the small shift in her hips as Philippa pulled back. The impact was still sharp, the sound of Philippa’s hand on her ass cutting through the air with a crack, and Katrina moaned loudly.

Philippa pushed her face into the pillow and hit her again, Katrina’s muffled moans encouraging her.

“ _Harder_ ,” Katrina gasped and Philippa spanked her again. Philippa’s hand connected with her ass one last time, then she caressed Katrina’s abused, pink skin with gentle strokes. Her hands settled on Katrina’s hips, and she thrusted roughly twice, ripping a moan from Katrina’s throat. “Fuck yourself on my dick, Admiral.”

Katrina flushed at the words, but moved to obey. She raised herself up a little on her forearms and pushed back, pushing the dildo deeper. Philippa made an encouraging noise and stroked her lower back. Katrina shifted forward, then back again, a little faster this time. She moaned, and Philippa began to murmur encouragingly, _yes, good girl, just like that_.

Katrina found a rhythm, soft gasps escaping her lips each time the dildo pushed into her. Philippa began to thrust again, slamming roughly against her, and Katrina paused.

“Don’t stop,” Philippa ordered.

Katrina groaned and began again, pushing back against Philippa, bodies coming together urgently. She began to moan with each thrust, her cries quickly escalating. “Fuck! Yes! Oh! Oh god! Fuuuuck! Please, Pippa, please make me come again!”  

Philippa took over again, pushing Katrina’s face into the pillow and thrusting hard into her. Katrina cried out and Philippa fucked her until she was coming, screaming, “Fuck, Pippa, _yes!_ ”

Katrina came out of a fuzzy haze to find herself lying on the bed, with Philippa behind her, half-sitting, stroking her hair. They had lain together quietly for some time when Katrina’s communicator began to beep.

With a sigh, Katrina pulled herself out of bed and found the communicator in her discarded clothes.  

“This is Admiral Cornwell.”

“Admiral.” Sarek’s voice was unmistakable. “I’ve spoken with Command.”

Katrina looked at Philippa, still lounging in bed and staring back innocently. Katrina took a deep breath. “Meet me in the briefing room. I’ll be there in fifteen.”


End file.
